Of Caterpillars and Goblin Kings
by Viciously Witty
Summary: Sarah is looking forward to the (not so) halcyon days of summer until she makes a rather imprudent wish... Caterpillars, Cub Scouts, and Goblins? Oh my! The Goblin King is going to Summer Camp.
1. Campfire Wishes

**AN: **Submitting this for the LFFL Summer Campout Challenge!

* * *

"A lot of parents pack up their troubles and send them off to summer camp."

**Raymond Duncan**

* * *

"Simon!" Sarah forced patience she didn't feel into her voice. "For. The. Last. Time. Put those caterpillars down."

The boy in question paused, his shoulders hunching and his ruddy-face pinching into a look of disappointment.

Sarah tapped her foot.

With an ill-concealed scowl he withdrew a seething mass of furry tent caterpillars from his short pockets and dropped them at Sarah's feet.

She exhaled noisily, shifting her exposed toes to avoid the onslaught.

_Be a scout leader_, they'd said. _It would be good for Toby,_ they'd promised.

She bent and plucked one of the critters from her ankle before turning on heel to head back to the group.

It wasn't that she didn't like kids. In fact she'd found - her storied babysitting history aside - that she was rather good with them. And, to her surprise, she even enjoyed them.

But it was only day two and she was already feeling brittle. Camp was apparently a whole other ball park. An hour and a half a week was doable. Twenty four hours a day for seven days straight was proving to be something else.

And truth be told she wasn't even sure it was helping Toby. The ten year old was sullenly picking grass, ignoring the instructions the other leader was giving for capture the flag. _Toby is just at a difficult age_, Karen had explained. _He's always been a little different anyway_, her father had added. Together they had guilted her into giving up her Wednesday evenings for the last year to be a leader in Toby's pack. Their hope being he would get out of his funk. Maybe learn to tie some knots. Make memories. Get out of the house and give them a much-needed break.

Normal parent stuff.

_He just relates to you more_, they'd both pleaded.

It didn't help that Sarah suspected why Toby never wasn't fitting in. Why he always had a far away look in his eyes even when he was happy. Why his features were surprisingly sharp and his blonde hair never sat straight no matter what hairdressers tried. Fae-touched, the storybooks always warned. Never the same. And it was only getting worse.

Whereas Sarah had quite recovered, grown even, from her experience – whatever it had really been - Toby seemed caught between worlds. On some days she decided it was stuff and nonsense. A fever dream from a fifteen year old with a vivid imagination. There had certainly been no indications that it had been real. No evidence. No otherworldly visits from Goblin kings she refused to name. Toby was just going through a phase and she'd just grown up. Had gone to university. Gotten a job as a journalist for their town's paper and was currently sending resumes to all the big media moguls in cities she'd like to visit.

That had also influenced her decision to volunteer in Toby's pack. She was planning on leaving. She hadn't told anyone yet but she knew it would hit him the hardest. She wanted to see him make some friends and give him one last summer together before she pulled up roots.

And so, she'd found herself in the remote Wilderness of Canada at a Scout Camp 500 miles from home on exchange. Five-hundred miles trapped on a bus with thirty kids high on summer vacation and the sugar their well-meaning parents had sent them off with so they didn't feel guilty about celebrating their freedom.

It was only day two and she was already starting to regret her decision to take a week's worth of vacation. It didn't help that the camp's coffee machine had broken their very first morning.

Sarah had spent many a summer growing up visiting her grandparents at the lake – an escape from her parents' failing marriage and then from a stepmother she hadn't wanted. She was well-versed in the wilderness, and roughing it didn't fazed her. She rather enjoyed it. What was beginning to bother her was the undeniable fact her kids were behaving like rabid animals and nothing was going to plan.

Her eyes zeroed in on Simon suspiciously. The folds of his shorts seemed to be moving on their own. But then the whistle blew and the kids were off shrieking – scattering into the field and forest to start their game. Lord of the bloody Flies, Sarah thought. And she was Piggy.

Toby was still seated, as though he hadn't even noticed the mass exodus.

Sarah nudged him with a foot. "Hey. You're missing the game."

He looked up, surprised to find himself alone. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, get going. Looks like we're," Sarah glanced at the marker he'd yet to don, "team blue. Forest it is. Let's go, hmm?"

The boy got to his feet slowly, brushing off the blanket of grass he'd covered himself with.

Sarah mopped her dripping neck with her neckerchief as they made their way to the treeline. "Who knew Canada was so hot in the summer?"

Toby shrugged. "Canadians probably."

"Smart-ass." Sarah swatted his head affectionately, eliciting a smile. "Come on. I want to win."

"You always want to win."

Sarah cocked her head as they ducked down behind a pine and scanned the field for the red team's flag. "True. But losers are on dish duty tonight."

Toby's eyes widened. "Huh. Now I kind of want to win too."

An hour later and almost all the kids were scratched, sun-burnt, exhausted, and entirely satisfied by that. The blue team had won, meaning Sarah and Toby were spared doing dishes after a hearty supper of spaghetti. Spaghetti which would have been delicious, not to mention one of Sarah's favourites while camping, had one of _her _kids not slipped a caterpillar into her noodles. And had she noticed before taking a bite.

Not having to dishes meant that Sarah's group was at least given a chance to head to the beach and refresh with an evening swim in the deep, cool lake.

Or it would have been refreshing had three of the kids not decided to dump a bucket full of fishing bait into the swimming area. The bait being live leeches of course.

Sarah had tended to half a dozen wailing, absolutely hysterical children before she even thought to check herself and by then it was only back at her tent. A cursory glance told her she'd been spared until she peeled her wet bathing suit off and proceeded to give the kids at the beach a run for their money. In fact the words coming out of her mouth violated every code of conduct and ethics she'd ever signed when she volunteered to be a leader. She was fortunate to be tenting along because she would have made even a long-haul trucker blush.

The plump and completely glutted black leech fell to the floor, detaching from her breast with a wet squelch. Sarah dry-heaved, wrapped a towel around herself, and then used a flip flop to fling the wriggling parasite out the door.

Sarah was still thinking about the leech and the caterpillars when the kids started bothering her for a ghost story later around the campfire. Having disposed of the blood sucker, she'd gone to get dressed only to find her pack filled with more tent caterpillars. It was a record year for them, the camp director had explained. It happened every few years. Lucky her.

"Simon," she hissed, emptying one of her bras.

It had been a long, trying day, and she was hot, un-caffeinated, and starting to think her normally bright and engaged kids had been replaced with absolute goblins. The last thing she felt like was Kumbayaing around the flames. Not least because the other leaders had all but abandoned her. She was the "young" one, they'd joked – most of them parents themselves. She could handle it. Really they were just playing cards in the kids-free mess hall.

Later she'd blame her impulsiveness on that entire series of unfortunate events. A domino effect towards damnation.

The first story she'd tried had been about errant hitchhikers who'd found themselves in a deserted shack. It was met with groans and even a few boos. They wanted something new. Something fresh.

Sarah swatted the tenth mosquito buzzing about her ear irritably. "You want to a better story? I'll tell you a story." She picked at the marshmallow mess cemented in her hair from little Billy's overzealous roasting. She stood and faced them, the fire at her back casting her face in shadow.

"Let's see… once upon a time there was a very brave girl and a very gruel goblin king…"

As she related the story of her time in the Labyrinth, embellishing some parts for effect, but mostly sticking to what she remembered, she failed to notice Toby's eyes getting wider - his back straightening and his attention turning rapt.

So caught up in her campfire tale, she was surprised when Simon announced rudely, "That's a stupid story. We wanted something scary. No one's afraid of a boring old Goblin King."

"Oh no?" Sarah countered. "Well you should be. Because though he's very powerful and cruel, the girl - the girl who beat him? That was me. Which means he's in _my_ power now. Mine to command. All I would have to do is _call_ him – say the right words – and he'd take all of you away," Sarah swept her arms wide, caught up in the drama of her own story-telling. "Right now."

A few kids visibly shivered. It was the kind of story they'd never heard before. The kind they were the perfect age for – on the cusp of still believing in magic. Of still believing their leader might be telling the truth. That she could have certain powers. It wasn't a ghost story but it was something equally otherworldly.

"Then do it," Simon goaded, clearly not forgiving her for the caterpillar ban. "Say the words. Anything's better than this stupid boring camp anyway."

A few of the kids laughed nervously.

Sarah was glad he couldn't see her expression because it wasn't kind. She was about to call a close to the night's activities and send them all off to bed, prepared to face tomorrow with renewed energy…

… And then he did it.

_The little shit._

Flicked another caterpillar at her. A big juicy one. It thudded against her chest and slid down the open collar of her plaid shirt. She fished it out and locked eyes with the deceptively cherubic-looking boy. By now several of the other more rowdy kids were also sniggering.

"You want me to say it?"

Simon nodded.

Sarah bent, propping her hands on her thighs so she was eye-level with him.

"Are you certain?"

The boy tensed but then nodded again.

"I wish the Goblins would come and take all of you away. Right now."

She heard several sharp intakes of breath and then nothing. Not that she'd expected anything to happen. It wasn't real after all. None of it. But in the moment it had felt good to say. Powerful even.

Simon blinked at her. His mouth curling into a smirk. "Was that it? Some power."

Sarah straightened. "And its bed time now." She clapped her hands. At the same time lightning streaked and thunder struck. The kids shrieked in terror and the timing even made Sarah jump slightly.

She glanced up at the otherwise clear night sky. She was just resigning herself to airing out pee-soaked sleeping bags in the morning if it stormed, when it grew preternaturally quiet. Not even crickets chirped. She looked back down and almost tripped backwards into the fire.

They were gone. All of them. Even the caterpillars.

She spun, wondering if the kids had somehow managed to coordinate a prank so quickly and instead came face to face with the Goblin King.

He was limned by the fire; his armour somehow blacker than even she remembered.

His angular face was the same – untouched by the passage of time – and his eyes, well his eyes, were bright with victory. Like he'd been waiting for her misstep all those years between them. To say the right words again oh so foolishly and put herself back in his power.

"Sarah." Her name slid off his tongue like syrup. "And here I thought you'd learned your lesson." His tone suggested he was delighted she hadn't.

Goosebumps prickled across her skin in awareness.

"Do I need to remind you of the rules or do you remember? For old time's sake shall we say you have thirteen hours before they are lost to me forever? And don't think it will by easy the second time. The rules are _so_ much different for those fully grown." She had a feeling he could see her perfectly well despite the heavy dark. "There are none." Lips twitched into a smirk that somehow reminded her of Simon.

It was probably the smirk that did it in the end.

"No."

The Goblin King's expression shifted. "What did you say?"

"I said no. I won't be running your Labyrinth to win them back. They're yours now and you're welcome to them. Thanks for stopping by though."

She turned and stalked back to her tent, a smile now bowing her lips. She paused only long enough to toss a 'good luck' over her shoulder at the thoroughly stunned Goblin King.

* * *

**AN:** This fic was born of plot bunny that bit me at, you guessed it, summer camp. I'm a Scout leader for my kids' Beavers and Cubs. I absolutely love it. I absolutely love camping. I absolutely love volunteering with kids (as tiring as it can be). I went to a Scout camp in May and June, and well, this hit me. What would happen if Sarah reached her wit's end (lack of sleep, snotty kids, caterpillar infestation – it's happened) and wished all the kids away to the Goblin King? And what would happen if she didn't want them back? This. This is what will happen. *rubs hands together*

I will do my best to make this reflect American Boy Scouts, but bear with me and suspend some disbelief. It's co-ed in Canada so I'm going to pretend it is for the purposes of this story. Otherwise I'll try to be accurate. I've set the camp in Canada because it's easier for me to describe areas I know, and yes, American Boy Scouts do come up to our camps.

Bonus: LFFL posted a summer challenge and the theme is "Summer Campout." Naturally this was an extra incentive to just go ahead and get this story out. To meet the challenge I have to finish it by September 23rd (my god do deadlines and I not mix but let's try).

And yes… I have been writing/ working on an update for *that* other story. SOOON. I can manage three WIPS *feels crushing weight of denial*

No kids will be harmed in the making of this story. Goblin Kings might…


	2. Breakfast and Bikinis

"Be careful what you wish for. There's always a catch."

**Laurie Halse Anderson**

* * *

Sarah couldn't believe her own temerity but she zipped up her tent with a steady hand nonetheless. For a moment she thought she could make out his outline through the nylon, silhouetted by the fire she most certainly should have put out before going to bed. What would Smokey say?

And then he was gone.

As though he'd never been there at all.

She waited but nothing more happened.

She lay down on her sleeping bag and chewed her lip. When she pressed a palm to her forehead she could feel the residual heat in her tight skin. Mild sunstroke maybe. She did have a headache. Easy to get when you're more focused on your charges than on your own well-being. She took a swig from a water bottle – nauseatingly warm from being in the tent all day.

Distantly she could hear the measured drone of the highway overlaid by the haunting call of a loon on the lake. Closer still was the unmistakable buzz of a mosquito. All together they formed the orchestra of a regular old camp. Nothing more. Sarah swatted at her face and promised herself to wear a hat tomorrow.

Somewhere near a cabin door banged shut - probably a trip to the kybo. It was the last sound that fully registered before sheer exhaustion claimed her for the night.

Of course she might have slept more fitfully had she'd known what dark thoughts the Goblin King harboured.

* * *

Jareth had watched her walk away, hips swaying in those ridiculously short cut-offs after seemingly (and incomprehensibly!) denying him once again, and suddenly all he could think about was bending her over one of the wooden benches and fucking the ever-living defiance out of her. Not exactly the greeting he'd been intending to offer but he'd underestimated how her ability to get under his skin had not dulled with time.

But rules were rules, even when they were his. All the more irritatingly so when they were his in fact.

He could hardly _force _her to run for them. It was just so unexpected. A call in the night after so long. And he'd felt it. Felt it in his very bones. She'd meant the wish. She'd said the words.

And then she didn't want to play.

It wasn't fair.

Because he couldn't even stay. He felt the magic tugging him away even as he was still contemplating blowing her ridiculously flimsy sleeping quarters down like the big bad wolf in a children's story.

When he could resist no more he found himself back in the throne room.

He was on the verge of thoroughly drowning himself in goblin ale when he heard the politely cleared throat.

_That's right._ He was not alone.

Thirty odd faces – some decidedly grubby looking – were peering at him expectantly. They were certainly a motely crew, all of them dressed in what looked like various forms of sleepwear. One was still holding a long stick with a charred bit of white goo precariously attached to the end.

It detached itself with a wet plop and landed on the stone floor. The boy looked down and his freckled-nose wrinkled in what Jareth recognized was the pre-cursor to a sniffle.

Eyeing each of them in turn he decided that though they were likely more trouble than a baby, they looked harmless enough.

Words he would soon regret…

He turned his back on them and strode towards his throne. If he was going to lick his wounds it was going to be in style at least.

The Goblin King stopped short, one of his arched brows began twitching in disbelief. His seat, well worn from a century of artfully languid lounging, was absolutely writhing with caterpillars.

…Regret sooner than not, he realized.

* * *

Sarah awoke feeling simultaneously refreshed and stiff in that way that comes only from sleeping outdoors in tent. The sun was already beating hotly through the nylon, making the whole interior feel more like a greenhouse. She kicked off her sleeping bag, sat up and stretched, and retrieved her toiletry bag after running a hand through her unwashed and tangled hair.

Glancing down she realized she'd fallen asleep in her clothes – now rumpled and more than a little sweaty. She felt well-rested but with hazy memories of a ludicrous dream still tugging at her conscious.

When she poked her head out of the tent flap to get some cooler air she squinted and realized the entire lower field was rather quiet. The bright sun was high enough that she likewise recognized she'd clearly slept through wake-up call. The old cook, a fixture of the camp since its inception, was an absolute stickler for protocols. Late comers didn't get fed. They did get dishes. And they most assuredly got publicly shamed, regardless of age.

Swearing under her breath she slipped on flip-flops and hightailed to it the dining hall without bothering to change. God willing they'd fixed the coffee machine and something hot, caffeinated, and mostly drinkable was waiting for her.

She opened the door slowly, trying hard to be discreet, and then dropped her entire kit with a bang. Her toothbrush rolled across the floor.

The other leaders looked up, mugs paused midway to mouths.

So they'd fixed the coffee machine.

But lost all of the kids.

Not too much sun. Not a dream.

_Fuck._

The long wooden tables and benches were empty save for the handful leaders. Not one looked surprised by that fact however. Sarah ignored their curious stares and pressed her face against the far window. The beach was empty; the lake clear as glass. All the canoes were banked on shore. The archery range was still clothed in morning shadow but entirely empty. The high ropes swayed lightly in the breeze, weighed down only by the occasional bird. The tall Canadian flag snapped in the wind, next to the large emergency bell.

The bell you were supposed to ring in the event of an emergency. Like a missing child. Or thirty of them.

"Hey Sarah, coffee's hot. Get some before Ernie notices you're late."

Sarah turned, the blood already rushing to her ears. "The kids…"

Chris blinked back at her. "What kids?"

Someone else pressed a cup of coffee into her hand. The chipped mug read, "Be Prepared" and featured a formal picture of Lord Baden Powell.

"Looks like someone had a rough sleep." Chris patted the bench beside him.

Sarah felt her legs begin to shake so she sank down, her eyes wide and unseeing.

At that moment, Ernie pushed through the galley style doors with a cart laden with steaming food and his trademark perpetual scowl. Scrambled eggs, toast, fat greasy sausages, a pot of beans, and bowls of cut fruit. Without preamble he began tossing the food onto the tables just as he'd done for the last 50 years and in defiance of biology, probably would for 50 years more. It was enough to feed an army. Or at least thirty kids with the appetite of one. He finished, did a head count as though eight adults was all he expected, nodded gruffly, and retreated into his kitchen.

"Dig in before it's all gone," Dave advised. Sarah stared at him incredulously when she realized he was serious.

"The kids!" Her voice sounded a touch hysterical even to her own ears.

A few of the leaders looked up, exchanged glances and went back to eating. Chris, always in a good mood, started laughing. "Biological clock ticking or something? What kids?"

"The kids who should be here? The ones we should be leading?" She motioned towards the walls which were covered in 75 years worth of camp photos. In all of them there were smiling kids in uniform.

Chris squinted at a few. "A yep. So?"

"Where are they now?"

"Well some of them are probably dead by now, Sarah, but that's a bit dark for breakfast chatter don't you think?"

"No, I mean don't you think it's strange we are here, at a camp for kids, dressed in leaders uniforms and we have no kids?" Sarah studied his face, hoping to catch a flicker of remembrance. For his brow to furrow in confusion.

Instead he choked on a piece of egg mid laugh. The morsel flew free and skidded to a halt in front of her. Incriminatingly so she thought.

"Ergh… argh," he coughed. "Good one, Williams."

Sarah pointed at all the food. "Don't you think kids _should_ be here though?"

"Why would we want kids here? They ruin everything. Much more peaceful without them." Chris cheers'd the leader behind him when Sarah left him hanging.

She looked at each adult in turn – all of them looking well-rested and carefree and certainly not panicked in the least by the lack of Cubs.

"Relax." She felt a hand hit her shoulder. "You look tense," Camille offered brightly. "Camp is about relaxing. Try it sometime."

_Relax._

Sarah mulled the alien word over in her head. She'd been putting in 50 hour weeks on-top of the volunteer hours. Her only vacation for the foreseeable future was eaten up by the entire Scout trip.

An insidious voice in the back of her head suggested she could at least enjoy _one _day kid-free before she had to call foul and beseech the king to return the brats. Ultimately it was the right thing to do. Blah, blah, blah.

Sarah took a sip of coffee. Bitter, acrid, over-cooked, slight taste of gym socks…

And somehow perfect.

The other leaders began to file out after scraping off their dishes. They'd all originally had a full day's itinerary planned but with no Cubs the adults seemed in no particular hurry to go anywhere.

A slow smile formed as she tore into a lukewarm sausage.

Maybe, just maybe, neither was she.

* * *

_She could feel her velvet glove begin to weep at the sight of his swollen staff. His magnificent muscles – a twelve pack at least - rippled as he stroked the length of his iron-hard tumescence between his golden thighs._

_Anastasia could feel her nipples clap for joy beneath her see-through shift at beholding such a prime display of virile masculinity. Her violet eyes widened even as her pulsing core begged to be seeded by such a stud._

"_My darling, lift up your skirts for I have a fearsome hunger to feast on your delectable whisker biscuit," Lord Chad Blake III declared, his molten member already bouncing bouncily in anticipation..._

"Take them back."

Sarah looked up in surprise, hastily covering the worn paperback in her hands and squinting into the late afternoon sun as she pulled off her headphones.

The Goblin King, looking far less impressive and much more worn, was standing beside her on the old wooden dock.

She'd been stretched out on her stomach, sun-tanning. The lake was calm and deserted. It was peaceful enough to read the old dog-eared bodice ripper she'd found tucked into a couch in the staff lounge. She was about to hop up defensively when she remembered she'd undone her bikini top. With no one to see, no dress code to uphold, and the floating dock to herself, she'd taken advantage of the privacy.

"Sorry?"

"You absolutely should be."

Sarah could hear the latent rage, with just a touch of desperation, laced into every over-enunciated word.

She'd been planning to call on him. To work something out to get the kids back. It was her fault after all and she'd had no doubt he would make her pay dearly. But something about his tone made her pause.

He _wanted _her to take them back.

Which meant the power might actually lie with her.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She popped the headphones back onto her ears. Alanis Morissette's _You Oughta Know _resumed blaring.

She could see his boots pacing, rocking the dock slightly. Then the earphones were unceremoniously yanked from her ears.

"You know _exactly_ what I mean. You wished away _monsters_. Those aren't children. They are vile, savage, uncouth beasts and you _will _take them back. Now."

Sarah blew her gum, careful not to lean up so far as to give him a view of anything. Both she and Jareth watched the pink bubble expand before popping so loudly it seemed to echo across the lake. "No."

A delicious thrill, much more heady than the laughable smut she'd been reading, coursed her through her at the expression that crossed the king's face. It really should have terrified her. He looked murderous, incredulous, powerful.

And entirely at her mercy.

"Sarah…" he paused as he seemed to finally take in just how little clothing she was wearing. She saw his jaw tick as his eyes swept the length of her. "Be reasonable. Surely you see the impulsiveness of your actions. Surely you don't want to deprive mothers and fathers of their children."

"I believe you said, what was it? Oh yes. They are 'vile, savage, uncouth beasts'. Surely," she affected his strange accent, "I've done them a favour." She cracked her book back open and waved her hand. "If you don't mind, you're in my sun."

"'Lance of love'. What exactly are you reading?"

Sarah snapped her book shut again. "I'm sorry, don't you have some monsters to deal with? And I don't mean the goblins."

Jareth's eyes narrowed dangerously at the unmistakable note of dismissal in her voice. "This isn't over, Sarah. Not by far. You play a dangerous game, little girl."

The water rippled as he disappeared, the floating dock resettling without his weight. Sarah laughed into her crooked arm, both to release the tension and because she'd just refused, for the second time, to take back the kids she'd so foolishly wished away. He was not wrong. She _was_ playing with fire, no doubt. But somehow it felt delicious to make him wait. She certainly didn't feel as guilty as she should about giving herself a mini-vacation.

The kids were fine. Probably.

It was nothing he couldn't handle. He was the Goblin King after all. And it had been less than twenty-four hours.

She stretched and put her earphones back in. _You tell him, Alanis._

It was an hour later, when she went to swim back to shore that she realized he'd taken her bikini top.

It was about the same time reality came crashing in. "Toby!"

* * *

"Sire!" A frazzled goblin skidded to a halt before Jareth. "The mortals!" The creature was wheezing, clearly having fast enough that he was out of breath.

"Yes? What of them?" It had been one thing after another since they'd arrived. If they weren't demanding food, they were needing bathroom breaks. They'd already terrorized most of the kitchen goblins into calling a strike. They'd tied knots into everything they could fine, including the hairier goblins. And no matter where he went there seemed to be caterpillars. Everywhere. He was certainly in no hurry to hear what the little terrors had done now. Not when he was vacillating between fantasies of murdering Sarah and tasting all that sun-kissed skin, which smelled so enticingly like coconut.

Perhaps he'd do both.

"The children, sire!" The goblin panted. "They've taken control of the bog."

The Goblin King frowned and then snorted indifferently. "They can't possible smell worse than they already do. And it will serve her right." He was already envisioning what he'd demand to get _that_ particular odour out.

"But, sire, you don't understand! They're dismantling the dam!"

* * *

**AN:** The next fic to be updated is Tanglewood. Scouts' honour.

There is some suspension of disbelief needed in this fic, but I figure we all love a movie about puppets and David Bowie's crotch – we are pretty flexible.

Credit needs to go to some LFFL discussions and bad genital euphemisms lists for the travesty of the bodice ripper blurb I wrote. But! But! I have been determined to incorporate my favourite – Whisker Biscuit – into a fic. And I did it, bitch.

Fun fact. It's legal to be topless in Ontario, Canada. Fun(ner) fact. Alanis Morissette is from my city.

Hope you are still enjoying whatever the hell this is!


	3. Best Laid Plans

"The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry."

**Robert Burns**

* * *

It felt like an interminably long swim of shame back to the beach, one hand clutching both her old Discman and the trashy book above her head, and the other frantically stroking for shore. When her feet touched sand she glanced about carefully before quickly darting the rest of the way from the water. She flung her towel about herself a moment later.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck. How could she have been so stupid! Toby!_

Her first inclination was to call him right back. Demand the Goblin King return him, invariably repeating herself like a broken record, 'give back the child that you have stolen', et cetera, et cetera.

With uncanny timing, she caught the muffled sound of Britney Spears' "Oops… I Did It Again" crooning from the headphones. She dropped both the player and the book into her bag in shame and disgust.

Sarah ran shaking hands through her hair, deciding to at least wait until she was fully dressed again before doing anything else. Impulsiveness had gotten her into the mess, and no sense in having anymore dealings with the Goblin King while topless. Collecting her bag, she sprinted to the tent – an impressive feat in a towel held on by willpower alone - and began tugging on the first clothes she could find, cleanliness be damned.

"Williams."

Sarah paused mid-button at the voice through the nylon. It was one of the year-long camp staff.

"Doug wants to see you in his office." The tone was ominous.

Sarah grunted a non-descript acknowledgement. She did NOT have time for the old leader's pedantry. More likely than not he wanted to pontificate on yet more of the finer points of the organization's lengthy rules and procedures. She'd probably tied a knot wrong or washed a dish counter-clockwise. A small part of her wondered what his expression would be if she just outright told him she'd wished a whole pack of kids away to the big bad Goblin King. No emergency plan in place for that kind of incident surely.

She was still working out her game plan to for dealing with said Goblin King when she jogged into the warden's office without knocking. Doug looked up over the top of the book he was reading. _1001 Uses for Knots. _The older man frowned, looked decidedly uncomfortable for a moment, as though bracing for something, and then put the manual down. He adjusted his glasses and shifted awkwardly in his seat before speaking.

"Miss Williams… ah good," he paused again. Sarah felt a sudden and unsettling spike of fear. Perhaps in retaliation for her less than warm negotiating, the Goblin King had removed whatever veil had fallen over the staff. Perhaps they now all realized they were an entire cub pack short. A cub pack that had last been in her care.

"It has been brought to my attention that you ah… violated camp rules."

Sarah sank weakly into the chair opposite him. Her eyes fell to the plaque on his desk. It was an award for working with children for over thirty years without incident. Behind him, covering most of the cabin's wooden-planed walls, were similar accolades. Not a single one was for wishing away innocent children.

"I can explain…" _But not really._

"There are dress codes" and "I'll get the kids back somehow" collided mid air.

Both Sarah and Doug trailed off.

"What?"

"What?"

Doug straightened his Necker and tried again. "The dress codes strictly prohibit… ah…" it sounded like the words were being dragged from him, "topless swimming." He whispered the last.

Sarah blinked. "Sorry, what?"

"You were seen today… ah, swimming topless from the main dock."

Sarah's jaw slackened, her mind processing the absurd conversation she was currently having in light of everything. "I ah… " How_ to tell him it wasn't her fault._ That the Goblin King had taken her top after she unceremoniously saddled him with campers Doug couldn't even remember.

"Rule 86, subsection 7." He plopped the large procedure book down on the desk without opening it. The whole thing was denser than a New York phone book.

At any other time she might have felt mortification at being seen swimming topless. At a kids' camp no less. But skinny dipping had dropped pretty far down her list of concerns in the grand scheme of things. Somewhere above her food in her teeth, but definitely far below getting kids she'd deliberately made disappear. _Sorry dad. Sorry Karen. Toby won't be starting school in September because he no longer exists and is more likely than not a goblin by now._

"Right." Sarah stood, trying to affect as much shame as she could muster into both her voice and countenance. "Won't happen again." A beat later she cleared her throat, and motioned meaningfully in the silent language employed by all women – _eyes up here, dude_.

Doug's face instantly flushed and his eyes rocketed back to her face. "I-I should expect not."

Before he could say anything else she hightailed it back out of the office as quickly as she'd arrive. She had neither the time nor patience to dwell in the requisite embarrassment she probably should. In fact, she hoped whomever had ratted her out had at least enjoyed the show. At the very least it was an adult, and her pride was about to take a far more lethal hit than a summons from the warden.

When she came upon a secluded part of the trail in the middle of old growth trees and dense under bush, she stopped. Her hands twisted into her t-shirt fitfully.

_Just do it like a Bandaid, Sarah. Rip it off. Admit you made a mistake. I'm sure he'll be reasonable and understanding. Jareth seemed like the forgiving sort._

She snorted so loudly a chipmunk chittered at her angrily for disturbing its peace.

Closing her eyes, she opened her mouth, ready to say the words…

And then her eyes opened.

The Goblin King couldn't have realized Toby was amongst the campers. There was no way he wouldn't have used her brother as his trump card. If he found out now it would be all over. Begging for Toby meant she might as well just forfeit everything. And even if she played coy, calling him back after sending him away not twenty minutes ago… he would be beyond suspicious.

A small voice, one she wasn't ready to fully acknowledge, was also entirely loathe to give up the unexpected power she wielded. He didn't want them. As far as he knew she was in no hurry to get them back. He'd come begging her for a change.

_But Toby…_

Sarah squared her shoulders, the chipmunk still eying her reproachfully, and spoke. "Hoggle, I need you."

* * *

Jareth stormed into his bedroom and ripped his waistcoat off before tossing it angrily into the corner. His boots came off a moment later, bouncing off the far wall in succession. Pants followed, as did his formerly pristine shirt, until he stood - not a stitch of clothing on his lithe body - in the centre of his bedroom.

_He was going to absolutely murder her_.

Slowly and with relish.

He was still envisioning _how _exactly over three-quarters of an hour later.

After he'd bathed.

Twice.

In the hottest water he could stand.

The Goblin King leaned against the window, body still naked, now slick and slightly flushed from the bath, and surveyed the chaotic expanse of his lands below. He took a deep pull from the dark bottle in his hand. He refused to openly acknowledge the distinctive smell that still lingered.

Oh, yes, he was going to kill her. She'd be at his mercy in every conceivable way.

When his cock twitched, he glanced down sharply. "Don't even think about it, you bloody traitor."

The _witch_ had to be made to see reason. At the very least he'd find a way to force her to take those interminable brats back. No matter the cost to coffers and dignity. He'd offer her jewels, riches, a statue in her honour, a parade… whatever her cruel heart desired.

Anything to free him from the savages in miniature mortal form.

A perfectly good bog absolutely ruined.

Gone was the most terrifying threat he'd wielded against his simple-minded subjects for _centuries._

All because _children_ had decided the dam was 'destroying the natural eco-system'. Whatever in seven hells that even meant. Saving what he could had cost him a great deal of magic to stem the tide of putrid water that threatened to overtake the outer settlements. Had he failed he would have had an insurrection on his hands. A noxious one at that. Not to mention he was already depleted from his impromptu visit aboveground, wherein she'd all but laughed at his reasonable demand to take back her wish. She'd all but destroyed his kingdom over one child. It was like pulling ogre teeth when he very _kindly_ offered thirty of them back – no strings attached.

Lips thinned.

Perhaps she'd planned it. Wishing away the destructive little shits in some diabolical bid for revenge. Had she really bided her time for so long? Lulled him into a false sense of security? He was almost impressed with that level of cunning.

The Goblin King took another deep pull from the nearly finished bottle and despaired that no amount of ale would adequately quell his rage. Nor soothe his pride. He needed to break something. Or bog someone. But he couldn't even do that much anymore. He asked for so little.

Something _– anything_ – to punish.

For his own sanity, as soon as he'd dealt with the bog, he'd ordered the children taken out of his sight before he was tempted to violate the most basic laws of his kind. Contrary to the monster Sarah believed him to be, he did not harm the wished away. Runners were fair game but executing children – however much those ones absolutely, in no uncertain terms, deserved it – was not a stain he wanted on his rule.

Not yet, anyway.

Because she, on the other hand, was beyond fair game.

His brawnier knights had been instructed to take them where they could find no mischief until a more permanent solution could be found. Like a muzzle and a cage.

A knock sounded at his door.

"Enter." He didn't bother to cover himself.

"Your majesty." A tall goblin bowed. His armour marked him as a highly decorated general.

Jareth granted him only a passing glance. "Pöngö. I trust you've wrangled the little monsters somewhere appropriate? And if you tell me they've _accidently_ met some other unfortunate end - maybe by the cleaners, please know I will hold you in no way accountable."

The goblin bowed again. "We have them herding chickens, sire."

At this the king turned. "Herding… chickens?"

"Yes, sire. Seemed like the sort of impossible task that would keep them out of trouble. Naturally we opened all the roosts loose first. All one hundred and thirty eight of them."

Jareth canted his head. "I'm not sure whether or not to feel sorry for the children or the chickens." His tone suggested he in actuality had pity for none. He turned away again, intent on revisiting his original plan to get drunk with renewed gusto.

The general cleared his throat. "Ah, sire? There's one other matter I think you'll want to hear. The girl-"

"Unless your next words are that you have _the girl_ chained and bound with a ribbon on top awaiting me in the throne room, allow me to seek oblivion in peace." Another traitorous twitch.

"Er… Not as such, sire. But I may have some information that could lead to that end."

The bottle paused halfway to his lips. "Go on."

* * *

"_You there! Gardener! Halt!"_

_Hoggle stilled, his round eyes widening further._

"_Er… yes?"_

"_Why you millin' about here then? Orders from the castle are that none of the mortals are to be approached. For your own safety, mind. And on pain of being bo... well… suppose let's just say pain now."_

_Hoggle's knees began knocking, the bag of jewels jangling in time. He stilled it with a sweaty hand. "Well… you see, I was just, just… checkin' 'em out fer myself. Heard they was fearsome beasts but, bah, they don't look like much to me." The dwarf jerked an arm in the direction of the half a dozen children running in chaotic circles after twice as many chickens between the crumbling walls. Walls that kept changing, naturally. "Just come to watch the show really. What's it to you, anyway?"_

"_Mmm." The guard considered Hoggle for a moment, finally shrugged, and then continued his rounds. _

_Of course not before he glanced back in time to see Hoggle furtively approach a little blonde boy and begin whispering in a most suspicious manner, or so he would tell his superior later. The guard, though not bright even by goblin standards, might not have thought much of it had he not belatedly recognized the dwarf. Recognized the traitorous creature who had so infamously helped the girl who ate the peach and destroyed half the city, his dear mother in law's house included. She'd been living with him ever since. The dwarf had it coming alright. _

When the general finished speaking, the Goblin King's whole demeanor had changed. It was enough that the general took a half step back. He looked quite fearsome, despite being naked as a newborn goblin babe.

* * *

A slow smile bowed his lips. "You've done well, Pöngö. You always were one of my favourite goblins. Certainly one of the least repulsive. Have I told you that?"

"Er, not at such, sire. Though you've only threatened to bog me once and that's a record 'round here to my knowledge."

"Never mention the bog in my presence again, Pöngö, lest I forget how much I like you."

* * *

Sarah had been pacing in the forest long enough to see the light change through the leaves. So long that even the chipmunk had long given up on watching her.

When Hoggle finally reappeared she practically tackled him. "Did you find him? Is he alright."

"Yes. He's safe."

Sarah immediately enclosed the dwarf in a tight hug and pressed an impulsive kiss to his cheek.

"Er, get off me!" Once freed Hoggle straightened his vest, blushing only slightly.

"Sorry." Sarah offered a half-smile. "You did me a very dear favour, old friend… and after not seeing you for so long." There was a touch of regret in her voice she immediately tried to mask with levity. "Wouldn't want to make you Prince of the land of stench."

Hoggle snorted. "No real danger of that happening..."

"How is he though? Is he mad?" When Hoggle didn't immediately answer, she began pacing again. "Oh, he's probably so hurt. Did you tell him what I said? That it was an accident? That I will get him back? Get them _all _back? Did the rest of them look okay?"

"They're fine," he snorted again. "The kingdom not so much. And yes, I told Toby what you asked me to."

"Well? Is he okay waiting? And, did you make id clear that I will bring him home?"

Hoggle shuffled his feet and shifted his eyes in a manner Sarah might have marked as strange had she not been so frazzled. "About that-"

Before the dwarf could finish, a sudden breeze lashed Sarah's hair into her face. When she pulled the strands back, the Goblin King was standing a few feet away in full goblin armour, as though he'd come to do battle. Two guards equally resplendent flanked him to the rear, lending credence to the idea that it was not a social visit.

Sarah swallowed and glanced behind for Hoggle but he was gone. She could hardly blame him.

"Back so soon? I thought I told you that I had no interest in bartering with you."

"You did, didn't you," Jareth chuckled. The sound skated down Sarah's spine like a scalpel. He didn't sound at all like he'd come to beg again. He took a few steps forward, just enough to test whether she'd retreat of stand her ground. "But then I suspect you'll change your mind."

"Really?" Sarah affected bravado she most certainly didn't feel. "What could you possibly offer me that I would ever take?"

"Oh, I'm not going to offer you anything this time, precious." He took another step, crowding her, before flicking gloved fingers at the guards behind. "The question is what will you offer _me _for this little, shall we say, family slice?"

Jareth stepped aside enough that Sarah could see what, or rather who, the guards had been holding between them. Bound and gagged. She felt her stomach drop and the colour leach from her face at the tell-tale messy blonde hair.

* * *

**AN:** Ack! Sorry. It's been awhile. Over a month. Longer than expected. Summer has come and gone. I SO DID NOT make the deadline for this challenge, but hey, we'll still have fun hopefully. Work has been a nightmare and will be until probably end of November but I plan to tackle this before the snow at least lol.

That said, now back to my regularly scheduled (other entirely neglected) WIPs…

**Credit:** Pöngö is mentioned in Brian Froud's _The Goblins of Labyrinth_. Nothing is known about him. I chose him for that very reason.


	4. This Means War

"Well, you know that old saying, 'Keep your friends close and make out with your enemies.'"

**Shae Ross**

* * *

In that moment Sarah fully realized she'd have to face the consequences of her brashness.

Again.

Something avaricious crossed the Goblin King's face at her damning silence and he felt a flush of power and possibility flood his senses…

And then, because things are rarely what they seem, the boy lifted his face and everything went to shit.

Sarah's expression mutated into something Jareth couldn't read but knew he didn't like, right before she burst into laughter.

She couldn't help herself in fact. She laughed hard. Laughed in relief. Laughed in that way that is neither charming nor pretty and sometimes involves tears and snot. Laughed in a way that is often infectious, so much so that the guards found themselves joining in despite not yet getting the joke. Until, of course, their monarch silenced them with a look of such warning one very nearly soiled himself. The other most certainly did.

"Hello, Simon."

"H'ullo, Sarah," he replied in a desultory tone. Then he shot a side look at the Goblin King. "I'm still not impressed. What else you got?"

Sarah's lips twitched. "You seem none the worse for wear."

Jareth watched the exchange with disbelief, his initial rage subsiding just as quickly as it had risen into resignation. "This is not your brother."

Sarah and Simon's emphatic 'no's' formed a perfect harmony that promptly drilled a hole in his skull.

He pinched a pained brow. "And let me guess. You don't want this one back." Not that he could blame her.

Normally Sarah would have felt compelled to say something diplomatic. Something kind and effusive. Parents had entrusted their precious offspring into her care after all, and she took that trust seriously. She played nice. But Simon had already begun stuffing his pockets with yet more caterpillars.

"Not in the least. Enjoy. By the way, he is on a gluten free meal plan and I'd strongly suggest no sugar in the afternoon. Or anytime really." She turned to Simon. "Behave yourself."

Simon, whose pockets were wriggling in a most disturbing way, offered Sarah a petulant look. "Probably won't."

She reached out and ruffled his hair in a rare bout of sincere affection. "Perfect."

And then, in what was fast becoming her signature move, she turned and walked away from the Goblin King.

* * *

Jareth was slow to react. Slow to process what had just gone down and slow to understand how the infuriating girl had somehow gotten the better of him. Again.

Especially when something was wriggling on his boot. Before he could shuck it off, the not-Toby disappointment bent down and picked it up, adding it to his pockets. Their eyes locked. The not-Toby spoke first.

"You have weird hair. I'm hungry. When's lunch? This is boring. I want to go swimming. Are you wearing makeup?"

Whatever else he was about to say was cut off. Jareth flicked his fingers and the boy and guards disappeared.

Somewhere overhead a small furred creature chirped at him angrily.

And then he was on her, catching up to her before she disappeared round the bend in the trail and before his magic pulled him back because no bargain having been fulfilled.

Her yelp of protest and fear only marginally soothed his rattled pride.

She wasn't that much smaller than him, his chin just clearing her forehead, but his boots and her flat shoes exaggerated the difference. He was also strong enough that her attempts to extract herself from his hold were almost comical.

"Sarah," he drawled her name out into something sinful. The effect made her still.

She smelled like a combination of some sort of coconut oil, residual campfire and sunlight itself. It should have been a strange combination but it had an effect on him too. He couldn't help but remember her laid out on the dock, all tanned skin and delightfully little clothing. A memento of which he still had. He'd done it to anger her, but the fascinating bits of string had been strangely warm from the sun and damp from her skin. He'd wondered just how warm and damp she might have felt to the touch.

She was warm now. And soft despite her struggles.

Sarah cleared her throat delicately.

"What is this game you are playing?" His rational mind reminded him to focus. "You have to know you will fail. I know you too well to believe you will resign those… innocent," he stumbled slightly on the word, "children to their fate. Where is that noble champion of the righteous?" _In your arms, smelling like a ripe piece of fruit_, his cocked helpfully reminded him.

"The champion needed a vacation," she replied – sounding just a little like the tow-haired brat he'd mistaken for her brother. Heads would definitely roll for that oversight. But strangely the way Sarah pouted didn't annoy him and instead made him want to test the plushness of her lower lip. The one that looked so soft despite being chapped from the sun.

"There were easier ways to find yourself respite than to saddle me with children. I would have thought you'd learned your lesson. You know there will be consequences."

"I guess I didn't." Sarah wriggled, trying to break the hold he had on her shoulders. All it did was put something altogether more interesting into his hand.

Sarah sucked in a breath, her eyes flying to his face. Ignoring every instinct that told him he was a king, not a gentlemen, and therefore had no moral obligations - Jareth readjusted his grip.

"We're not through talking." _Though part of me would like to be._

"You can't keep me here." The she was careful not to struggle in the same way again. "You have no-"

"Don't say it," he snapped irritably. Truthfully the words themselves were benign – expected even - but he was already having a bad day and he was loathe to let her add to it anymore. "We both know I do _in fact_. I may have chosen the wrong boy but I did not misread your reaction, Sarah. Young Toby _is _somewhere in my kingdom, isn't he?" His voice had dropped to a low cadence. He didn't wait for an answer. "Somewhere amongst the charges you so unfairly saddled me with. You may not want the rest back, cruel girl, but I suspect you want your brother back. Again. This _is_ becoming something of a habit with you, isn't it?"

The guilt was hard to disguise on her face, so instead she channelled it into more familiar stubborness.

She affected a look of indifference. Like she had other places to be and he was wasting _her_ time. "Is that it?" It was another flavour of the same dismissal she'd been giving him since she'd called upon him.

Jareth was momentarily taken aback by the unfamiliar creature in his arms. The one not acting at all noble or concerned or nauseatingly martyr-like.

But she couldn't hide the tension in her body, and his hands tightened reflexively on her ugly plaid shirt for a moment. "You know, I was going to forgive your little misspeak. Because make no mistake, _you _summoned me, Sarah. But now I think I won't be so forgiving." He gave her a long slow look. "I'm not sure I can trust you aboveground any longer. Wreaking havoc like a spoiled little girl trying to shirk her responsibilities. Perhaps it's time to consider you might be better suited somewhere else altogether. You do seem to have an inability to leave me alone in peace."

He was emboldened by her sharp intake of breath. He found he very much wanted to make her do it again.

"Don't test me, Sarah. I've been patient thus far. Indulgent even, for old time's sake. You won't like me angry. Perhaps I'll shall spare myself the trouble of you doing this again in another ten years, and just keep you at the end of this." He'd said the latter to shock her, but found the words felt surprisingly right. He didn't add that wasn't actually in his power. Yet. Though it had not escaped his notice that she was no longer too young to keep. "How you choose to handle this will determine whether or not you find that indefinite stay enjoyable. I will regardless."

Her eyes darted as she processed his words and then in that act of defiance he found as intoxicating as he did infuriating, she canted her head. That same distinctive chin jut she'd done in the tunnels. When he'd been tempted to _really_ up the stakes if she hadn't been so damnably young.

"Do your worst." Her words held the same false sense of bravado.

They were also the invitation he'd been waiting for.

He pinched her stubborn chin between. A smile parting his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I thought you'd never ask." He brushed her mouth with his – just a quick slant – and over before it started but allowing no doubt of his intentions. Of what her invitation would entail. Her eyes fluttered shut and were still shut when he pulled back, affording him a brief moment to see her face free of denial.

He was tempted to savour it but instead he released her altogether. Because this time Sarah would watch _him_ walk away.

She stared after his retreating form, one hand rising towards her lips until she forced it back down again.

The dappled sunlight through the trees made his pale hair all the brighter – a contrast to his dark armour. When he vanished it was like he'd blended into the rays of light.

_What the hell had just happened? _Her heartbeat finally caught up to her thoughts and it threatened to pump its way right out of her chest.

There was a certain humour in that he'd try to barter the Cub Scout Sarah _least_ wanted back. But the ability to say no to him – again – was relished only briefly. He knew he had Toby. And he knew she wanted him back. That had certainly shifted the power back towards his side of the board.

And he'd just declared he wanted to play for keeps.

The kiss had been unexpected.

And not altogether unpleasant. She shook that thought from her mind. _Hang in there, Toby. I will figure it all out._ She just had to hope her friends would come to her aid again in the meantime.

_I need you…_

* * *

"Challenge! I am afraid that is not a word, Sir Ludo." The knight shook his head and cleared the tiles from the board with a small paw.

The larger beast made a noise of mild displeasure and considered his letters again. It wasn't easy to play Scrabble when you couldn't spell. So he was actually quite relieved when Hoggle burst through the door of the small abode.

The dwarf was panting hard, evidence that he'd been running. And running fast.

"Sarah," Hoggle wheezed.

"My lady?" Sir Didymus quickly noted the score – for posterity's sake - and then began putting the pieces back in the bag.

"Trouble… children… _Him..." _

Ludo thwacked the dwarf twice in quick succession on the back, which took care of the spittle caught in his throat, but sent Hoggle careening into Sir Didymus' collection of commemorative plates.

"Erghf! You ruddy great beast." He yelled over the sound of breaking porcelain. "You almost killed me!"

Sir Didymus quietly bemoaned the lost of some of his favourites, but gallantly focussed on his friend. "Pease, Sir Hoggle. Pray tell us what ill has befallen our noble lady?"

"Him! It's always him!" Hoggle gesticulated wildly and then proceeded to fill them in on what he knew.

"Then we must protect the lad," Sir Didymus declared when Hoggle was finished. "It is our duty."

"And risk his wrath again? We narrowly avoided executions last time. I likes me head where it is, thank you very much."

"Hoggle," Sir Didymus admonished gravelly. "Is that anyway to behave as a knight? Sarah needs us. Can't you feel it?"

Ludo nodded in agreement. Not to mention it had been awhile since he'd committed treason, and he far preferred treason to scrabble.

Hoggle, who despite being an avowed coward, naturally had already arrived at the same conclusion. He still felt it necessary to at least voice his concerns. Having discharged that duty, he too was prepared to help in anyway. He couldn't help adding one final sobering thought however. "Just remember that it will be our heads on pikes this time."

* * *

Sarah spent the rest of the day in a bit of a haze, expecting the other shoe to drop at any moment. Anytime a twig snapped or a bird chirped, she jumped.

It had not gone unnoticed either.

One of the other leaders pulled her aside. "Are you alright, Sarah? You seem a bit on edge."

"I'm fine," she lied. _I'm not at all involved in a battle of wills with a magical being with untold powers, who happens to have all our kids, thanks to me, including your son. No, I'm fine, Fred. Thank you for asking._

"Okay, it's just that you're setting a bit of a bad example." He said it in a reedy, nasally sort of patronizing way that instantly had her realizing he was the one that had ratted her out to Doug. That and his eyes had trouble staying on her face.

"A bad example for whom, Fred?" She folded her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. Then she pointedly looked around the desolate camp. "All the kids who aren't here?"

Fred's face blanked and without really answering her, he just smiled widely. "Just cheer up, sunshine." He sounded like a used car salesman and she swore if he looked down again she'd break his nose. "Camp is about having fun."

Sure. Fun.

She skipped dinner that evening, choosing instead to regroup at her empty campsite. She needed a strategy for getting Toby back. One that somehow involved her keeping her dignity. She was past throwing herself on his mercy. Mercy she was fairly certain he did not possess anyway. She was startled to find the lack more than a little exciting.

She would have wished upon a star – the sky was aglow with them – but she didn't dare make that mistake again.

* * *

Jareth had immediately returned to seek out the brats in question. The not-Toby child he instantly recognized and discounted. He'd surprisingly proven himself a fairly capable chicken wrangler by hand feeing them from caterpillars from his pockets. He was pinched faced Pied Piper of poultry.

The Goblin King discounted another ten or so children as well, some because they were girls, others because they had dark hair or dark skin. The wrong features altogether. Based on Sarah's reaction he was looking for a little blonde boy.

He'd tried demanding Toby reveal himself but no child had stepped forward. He'd also demanded the other children point out Toby in their midst. Not one had betrayed so much as a tick. Upon further interrogation he was informed by a brace wearing ginger haired girl that there was such a thing as "Scouts honour". The not-Toby had added, "snitches get stitches," which Jareth could only discern meant they were presenting a united front.

Against him.

Not against the one who had wished them away in the first place.

He kind of hated children.

"Put them on firery duty next, Pöngö. Tell them they need to ensure all the limbs are accounted for."

"But sire," his general protested, "it's molting season!"

"Indeed, therefore it ought to keep them busy."

With a final frown at the rabble, he retired to his rooms and shucked his armour. Standing only in his pants he spied the discarded top from her ridiculous swimsuit lying on the bed where he'd left it. He picked it up intending to discard it but instead found himself brining it to his nose. The material had dried but it was it was still slightly warm and held a lingering and distinctive scent of coconuts.

Perhaps it was because he'd been forced to brave far worse smells recently, but the scent worked like a puppet string straight to his cock. Frustration welled to the surface and then morphed into another kind altogether. It had, admittedly, been a while. He wasn't sure if he even meant sex or being challenged but the two had always blurred together for him and he couldn't think of anything else. He wasn't sure if he liked just how much of an alarmingly potent effect she was having on him.

That insolent, infuriating girl who smelled like coconuts and sunshine. He breathed in the material one more time.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had laid back on his bed and had freed himself. Still gripping the top in his hand he worked it down the length of his semi-hard shaft with a hiss of pleasure. When he imagined her hands on him instead or better yet, her wearing the top while she used her mouth, he was fully and painfully hard. What better way to stop that insolent mouth.

Or maybe he'd work himself between her suntanned breasts – the hint of which he'd seen on the dock – he'd twist the top in his hand while she begged…

He came surprisingly quickly, across the top still fisted in his hand and onto his taut stomach.

Perhaps keeping her wasn't such an empty threat at all.

First he had to find her brother and end their little stand off, so he could start another sort of game altogether.

Cleaning himself up without any shame, he rang for his general.

"Pöngö, just how many children arrived here exactly?"

"Thirty by my last count, sire."

"Mistake me if I am wrong," a rhetorical statement as no one would ever dare correct him, "but did I only count 29 when I returned?"

* * *

Sarah awoke from a troubled sleep. She'd not slept well or long and the feeling of impending doom was not lessened by the bright sun streaming in though the tent. She scrubbed at her face and gathered her hair up into a messy bun. It needed a washing.

Just like she needed a plan. Bu hot coffee first.

Changing quickly into a tank and a pair of clean – by camp standards anyway – shorts she made her way to the dining hall and slipped in the back kitchen door. The most direct route to the fuel.

She was quietly blowing on a steaming cup when she joined the rest of the Scout leaders in the mess. A scattering of weary greetings met her. Several of them were looking out the windows.

She'd just taken a dangerously large sip when one spoke aloud.

"Like I know we're not supposed to say it, but this latest batch of campers has got to be the ugliest yet."

She choked slightly, burning her tongue and throat in the process. There were a few murmurs of agreement.

"Sorry, what?"

The leader in question glanced sheepishly in her direction. "You're right that wasn't nice. They are kids. Kids have awkward stages but come on, this has got to be next level."

In the few feet it took for Sarah to close the distance to the window, she already knew what she would see. Knew it on a visceral level confirmed when she glanced outside.

Goblins.

Goblins in baseball caps and t-shirts, holding sleeping bags and backpacks. Some picking their nose like any child might. Some picking their neighbour's nose in a way they wouldn't.

The yellow camp school bus closed it's door as the last got off and took off at a fairly impressive pace, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake. Like it too would rather get as far away as possible from the "campers".

Sarah felt its pain.

It was going to be a no good, very bad day. She looked down dourly at her cup. And no amount of over-cooked coffee would change that.

The Goblin King had declared war.

* * *

**AN:** Thanks for your patience, guys. I have not abandoned this fic, it's just hard to focus on a summer romp in the middle of winter! I was going to put it on temp hiatus while I focussed more on How to Catch a Goblin King and Tanglewood, and getting a Reylo fic off the ground, but then a burst of inspiration came today – no pun intended. Hope you enjoyed this little slice…

… because Sarah most certainly won't… dun, dun, dun! Coincidentally the last chapter of How to Catch a Goblin King ended in war too. At least this Jareth got off.


	5. Speedos and Surprises

"The early bird gets the worm. The early worm… gets eaten."

**Norman Ralph Augustine**

* * *

Sarah's cup hit the floor bounced once and broke, splashing hot coffee across her flip flops and up calves. The mug was well-used and of some obvious years, with a faded picture of Lord Baden Powell in his uniform and the words "Be Prepared" beneath.

Lying in pieces on the painted wood floor it instead read 'red – repa – Be P' which Sarah decided loosely translated to 'You are fucked beyond belief now.'

Three sharp whistled had everyone turning. Doug stood in the centre of the old dining hall, clip boards haphazardly stacked in his arms. "Attention. Attention, everyone! As you can see, the latest group of cub scouts have arrived and I have your assignments ready. Daylight is wasting, folks." He juggled the boards awkwardly. "Williams!"

Sarah, who was crouched down collecting shards of porcelain and keeping a wary eye on the doors like she expected a goblin invasion at any moment, rose.

Doug sighed. "Is that what passes for a regulation uniform?"

She glanced won at her tank and cut offs. "Uhhh…"

He gave her a disappointed look but thankfully refrained from launching into all the codes she was violating. He tapped his nose, almost dropping the boards. "Be Prepared."

Sarah looked down at the mug then out the window at the campers. One had already scaled the flagpole and was wearing the maple leaf as a cape. Two more had eaten the heads off all the flowers tastefully planted at the base. Several more were chewing on their sleeping bags experimentally.

"They must be Canadians," remarked one of the leaders scratching his head. He straightened the Stars and Stripes pin on his lapel and then ducked his head conspiratorially. "I've heard they put more than just fluoride in the water here."

The goblin in the flag had already fallen off the pole and instead decided to start chewing the support beams to the dining hall steps. His inhuman looking teeth were made all the more so by the fact he'd unhinged his jaw.

Chris chuckled well naturedly as though it was the most normal thing in the world. "Looks like we got a biter."

Sarah immediately turned to get more coffee but just as she reached the galley kitchen, Ernie shut the doors with his characteristic scowl and a finger jab at the clock.

Someone wordlessly pressed a clipboard in her hand. The names of her campers were listed in one long column.

13th Owl Pack

Names:

Are

You

Ready

To

Give

Up

Now

Sarah?

"You son of a B-"

"Williams! Language!" Doug gestured to the hand-painted list of rules posted on the wall. No profanity was number two, right behind dress uniforms at all times.

Sarah's shoulders hitched, but she recovered and made one last bid for sanity. She whirled to the nearest passing leader and waved the roster in their face.

"Look at these names? Don't you think that's a little strange?"

Camille craned her head back to read. "Yah, I guess so. But Sarah's not that uncommon a name." She shook her head as she moved towards the doors. "Seriously though. What's with you lately?"

When they all descended the steps of the dining hall, beady-eyed faces all looked up in unison like a pack of predators catching a scent downwind.

Despite their affectations of being normal human children – albeit possibly Canadian – such as baseball caps and t-shirts, there was no mistaking their overt goblinness. And yet not one of the other leaders looked the least bit fazed. She was alone.

She supposed she had been the one to lay the gauntlet and he had simply answered the challenge.

One by one the other leaders called out their rosters. It was disconcerting to see the motley crew of beasts answer to names like, 'Mia' and 'Gary' and 'Kimberly with an I'.

When Sarah was left alone with the remaining, who seemed to be the ugliest and most unruly of the lot, she tucked the clipboard against her side and folded her arms.

"So you must be Are, You, Ready, To, Give, Up, Now, and Sarah."

The goblins grinned toothily.

"I'm Sarah," said one in a decidedly male voice. He was by far the ugliest one, with features that looked like someone had taken all the very worst traits of a goblin and mixed them into one face. Then soundly beaten that face with a rolling pin.

"Like looking in a mirror," she remarked dryly.

"That's what he said too," Not-Sarah replied.

She scowled. "So I suppose we can drop all pretence then right? You aren't campers. You are here to cause destruction and mayhem and generally make things so awful that I concede to the king's demands, hmm?"

The campers looked momentarily taken back. They scratched their heads. Some scratched their balls. Some scratched their neighbours balls my mistake which led to a brief scuffle. "Um… yes?"

Sarah nodded and tapped her chin in thought. "And what did he promise you in return then?"

They conferred amongst themselves before not-Sarah finally spoke suspiciously. "Extra portions of goblin ale. So if you could just give up now?" he finished hopefully.

"That's not happening."

The one wearing the Canadian flag, because of course he was in her group, shoved his neighbour. "Told you she'd never give up." This provoked a shove back, which precipitated a larger brawl that included much eye gouging and nipple twisting.

Sarah stepped into the fray and pulled the two apart by the scruffs of their necks and then dropped them. "You understand of course that I can't in good conscience let you destroy this camp."

As if to punctuate that point no small amount of screaming had already started in the distance.

Sarah ignored the sounds of distress from her fellow leaders and bent to bring herself to their level. "But perhaps we can come to a little arrangement. I can be generous."

* * *

Jareth sprawled in his throne, legs stretched and ankles crossed. He rhythmically tapped one thigh with his crop while he waited, trying very hard to contain his impatience. Twenty-nine brats. Meaning one brat was missing. Find the missing brat, find the brother.

A simple solution for a simple problem. With Toby in hand there was very little miss-I-won't-take-them-back wouldn't do, he imagined. That imagining made his cock twitch again but time enough for that later.

He sat up when the doors to the throne room opened and then frowned when he saw his general was alone. "Well, Pöngö? Where is he then?"

"Sire, it seems he is harder to track down than anticipated. He must be using the Labyrinth to his advantage."

The crop stilled against a lightly muscled thigh. "Pöngö. Are you telling me that a mere human boy is somehow eluding my best trackers? That instead of trying to find his way out of a Labyrinth, he is instead using it to hide his trail?"

"Well, I-"

"And why pray tell would anyone do that, Pöngö?" His voice was deceptively soft.

The general was spared an immediate response by the arrival of some much harried looking guards.

"Sire. The ah… children thingies," began one.

"Have rounded up the Firerys," finished the second.

"They want to know what the next activity is and do they get a badge for it?" added the third in confusion.

"What? Already? That's impossible."

But as though on command, the cub scouts filed in leading a group of very angry and very intact looking Fireries.

"I can't take off my head!" groused one Firery in indignation.

"He can't take off his head!" repeated another, intent on emphasizing what a grievous injustice that was.

"We can't take off anything!" whined the rest.

One of the cubs stepped forward and pointed proudly. "I used a double hitch."

Jareth rose from his throne and approached. Upon closer inspection it became clear that the cubs had bound the appendages of all the Fireries to their bodies used rope and a series of complex looking knots.

"That's a fisherman's," pointed out another little girl.

Trucker's. Clove-line hitch. Sheet bend. Bowline. Reef. Friendship. Overhand. Slip. Square…

Jareth's head was swimming with the kids eager to list their handiwork.

"Enough!" he thundered. "Those are made up words." He pinched his brow to stem the onset of a headache and waved the Fireries away.

"So when's horseback riding then?"

Jareth looked up in surprise. It was the pinched-faced, blond not-Toby again. He'd been the only one not interested in showing off his knot-tying skills.

"What are you talking about, boy?"

Simon pointed a grubby-looking finger. "That. Where are the horses?"

Jareth glanced at the crop in his hand. "There aren't any horses here."

"Bit creepy then, isn't it," Simon crossed his arms as he addressed the elephant in the room. "Owning a riding crop if you don't ride a horse. Makes you wonder."

You could have heard a pin drop. Once upon a time a smarter-than-average goblin had once remarked upon that very inconsistency. Long story short, he had never been seen again. The goblins looked to Jareth, then to the not-Toby creature, then back to their king.

When the Goblin King spoke, it was in a deceptively soft and dangerously calm voice. "That is really none of your business, isn't it?"

Simon looked anything but cowed, perhaps even a little bored, while two of the goblins present voided their bowels.

"Is that a costume or something or do you dress like that all the time anyway?" the not-Toby wrinkled his nose disdainfully. "Cause it's really weird."

Pöngö wondered what dimensions were best for a child's sized casket.

Jareth stared at Simon. Simon stared at Jareth.

The Goblin King pressed a hand to his forehead. "I think I may really hate her." It was a rare moment of pure, unvarnished honesty.

Simon's sour face immediately brightened. "Me too."

* * *

Sarah passed Doug and offered him a mock salute.

Doug, whose arthritis was flaring thanks to the absurd amount of accident reports - more in one day than in his 35 years of scouting combined - he'd already filled out, eyed her in surprise. Fully decked out in uniform, she was being trailed by her charges in a way that might have been called orderly if you squinted. At the very least it was a far cry from the absolute chaos found in the rest of the camp.

Already one leader had inexplicably needed to be rescued from the bottom of the Kybo and had, dripping in a summer's worth of shit, quite understandable quit on the spot. Canoes that had never leaked were sinking left right and centre, many with suspicious looking holes that Doug was certain were bite marks.

Ernie, who had survived Vietnam and Korea, had been found steadily sobbing outside his kitchen clutching his apron like it was a security blanket.

Archery was going no better. He'd found one leader gagged and tied spread eagle to a target. Thankfully the campers were either excellent shots or terrible ones; he was frankly too afraid to find out which.

He supposed sometimes it took awhile for kids to settle in.

At least the screaming had stopped.

Doug felt a chill settle in his marrow.

… _why_ had the screaming stopped?

* * *

Sarah dumped her goblins at their camp and set them up with three gallons of ice cream she'd pilfered from the kitchens, and four bags of marshmallows. She'd also found a stack of old yellowed Archie comics left behind by campers from another decade. Though most goblins were completely illiterate, they liked pictures just fine. Especially featuring Jughead, whose ability to devour stacked platters of hamburgers, made him something of a god.

She made them promise to stay put until she got back. The day was already on its way to being a scorcher. She wanted a swim in the lake before she set about sorting the other goblins out. The other leaders could certainly manage until then.

Probably.

Maybe?

It was partly their fault anyway for dumping all the kids on her the night she'd made her imprudent wish.

Just a quick dip.

She was humming her way to the beach, towel slung over her shoulder and feeling rather proud of herself for her quick thinking under pressure, when she stopped short and pulled the earphones out of her ears like her eyes needed back up.

Occupying her usual spot on the dock was non other than Goblin King himself.

The Goblin King in nothing but the smallest black bathing suit she had ever seen. He was stretched on his side, one elbow propping himself up as he thumbed through a book. He wore a pair of expensive looking sunglasses and his hair was wet, slicked down his head in a way she'd never seen before, sleek molten gold in the sun. With his fey features he looked like some kind of water god sunning himself. A few droplets of water or maybe sweat, slid down his surprisingly sculpted chest. Despite being so lithe, his body was lightly corded and incredibly taut. His skin, which Sarah remembered as almost preternaturally pale, was in fact tanned an almost perfect and impossible golden brown. It was also glistening like he'd lightly oiled it. She spied her bottle of Hawaiian Tropics she'd left at the water the day before.

It should have been ridiculous but somehow it wasn't.

Sarah had always thought them a silly form of male swimwear. Embarrassing on most, functional for an athletic few, and otherwise likely very uncomfortable. They certainly left little to the imagination. Though little not being the operative word in this case. It hadn't been a codpiece then. They hung low on his narrow hips, a trail of golden hair descending from his navel and disappearing beneath the black material that looked like it was working double time to contain what was within.

A sixth sense of doom alerted her to the fact that the Goblin King was aware of her presence. His expression further indicated that he was likewise aware of the focus of her scrutiny. His lips twitched and a brow rose in such a way to wordlessly convey, 'My eyes are up here.'

Sarah frowned, looked away, found her eyes sliding back and then dragged them away again.

Jareth was openly relishing her obvious discomfort.

"Nice try," she called.

He mimed not being able to hear her, which she imagined was a total lie, and instead went back to his book.

Just then a Scout leader ran by her into the water, his hair most definitely on fire. He desperately dunked head, steam immediately rising from the lake and bringing with it the pungent and sulfurous aroma of burning keratin. He only stayed a moment however, before dashing back out of the water with a gaggle of goblins dressed like fifth graders in hot pursuit. She was briefly concerned until she saw it was Fred. She waved.

Jareth had given up pretense of reading and was watching her. He patted the wood beside him.

Sarah was on the point of turning back around and walking away when the old camp bell, the one reserved for dire emergencies, rang stridently for a few second and was abruptly cut short. She watched as it appeared above the treeline, sailing overhead like a missile. It landed in the middle of the lake spooking a pair of loons.

_Fuck._

This time the Goblin King crooked a finger.

Sarah dumped her towel and Discman on the sand, Sugar Ray's _Fly_ still playing. Several aggressive strokes later and she reached the edge of the floating dock. She treaded water for several seconds, contemplating cutting the anchor line and letting him just drift away, then pulled herself up the algae coated ladder. She stood dripping over the Goblin King.

"If you don't mind, you're in my sun."

She knocked the book out of his hand with her foot, belatedly recognizing her copy of _Lance of Love_ as it skidded off the edge to a watery grave – a more dignified send off than it deserved.

Jareth sighed dramatically. "And I was just getting to the part where his 'beef bayonet' I believe it was, has risen to the occasion and was poised to batter down her 'virgin's door' and," he paused and then snapped his fingers, "and fill her clam shell with his salty brine." He tipped his sunglasses down. "I must say, Sarah. What fascinating taste in literature you have."

She refused to be cowed. "It's not mine. I just found it here."

"Ah yes, because borrowed poorly written erotica is somehow so much less embarrassing."

Though standing over him gave her the illusion of power, she realized that he was merely using their respective positioning to peruse her sparsely clad body. She'd never actually found her other bikini top and though she was wearing a one piece it had large cut outs around her waist that emphasized and exaggerated a very shapely hourglass figure. It was also on the thin side and the water had been on cold side.

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and settled herself down a safe distance away from him.

She stared at her bottle of coconut oil pointedly.

"Would you like some?" he asked politely.

"It's mine."

"So are the brats currently in my kingdom." He palmed the bottle. "Though this smells altogether better."

She watched as he poured a small amount, rubbed it between his hands, and smoothed it over a muscled thigh.

"And how are they?" she asked, picking at a splintered piece of wood to keep her eyes occupied.

"Feral as ever," he replied in a tone that said he knew exactly what she was doing. "Why don't we end this stand off, hmm? Just ask for them back, Sarah, and we can come to a mutually satisfying arrangement."

She looked up, expression hardening. "You can't possibly think I would agree to whatever you have in mind."

"And how are you enjoying my campers?"

She snagged her bottle back. "They're a piece of cake." If the cake was full of glass, excrement and arsenic.

Jareth chuckled knowingly. It also didn't help that at that moment Doug's frantic voice came over the loud speaker. "This is another reminder that geese are not to be ridden! They are wild animals. I repeat, campers, please stop trying to ride the gee-" The speaker cut off abruptly into ear-splitting feedback and then stopped altogether.

"Just fine," Sarah said, her voice a little more brittle.

"Come, come, Sarah. Is it so very hard to ask me to take them back?"

She looked away and chewed her lip. The same sun-chapped one Jareth had tasted in that brief kiss.

"I never noticed you had freckles before." The words, somehow softer and entirely serious, were unexpected and disarming. And therefore all the more insidious.

Sarah eyed him suspiciously, feeling a little off-kilter. "The sun brings them out. But back to the matter at hand-"

"A face without freckles is like a sky without stars."

"You know, that would have a lot more impact if your goblins weren't destroying this camp right now."

"I'd be feeling much more generous if your campers weren't terrorizing my kingdom right now."

"Perhaps we do need a truce then," Sarah said cautiously, wondering if she could actually salvage the situation and remain unscathed. If the war could be ended so quickly and without bloodshed. Well, further bloodshed she amended remembering the long line outside the first aid station. They were adults after all. Mistakes had been made on both sides.

The she made the additional mistake of looking at him again. Jareth was studying her intently with a rather confusing expression she couldn't quite place and therefore couldn't decide if it boded well or not.

He held his hand out between them. She wasn't sure if she'd ever seen him without gloves before. His fingers were long and thin, but strong-looking with pleasantly blunt nails. A musician's hands. His skin looked warm and she was fairly certain her own hand would fit perfectly within his. She was also fairly certain he wouldn't release her again willingly and there was a strange sort of delicious thrill in that as they both lay on the sun-warmed wood, bodies damp and mostly bare, and with the smell of clean water and coconut in the air between them. Her fingers curled in anticipation.

The dock rocked suddenly and Sarah yelped, almost tumbling over the side. Two fully armed goblin sentries stood on the edge of the platform behind their king looking decidedly uncomfortable and more than a little nervous.

Without turning, Jareth's expression twisted to one that was appropriately murderous. "While I understand the loss of the bog has emboldened many of you, I can only assume there must be some terrible _misunderstanding_. Certainly you would never deliberately think of interrupting me right now. Not when I would ensure your death was slow and painful only to bring you back so I could do it all over again."

The guards looked suitably quelled but they didn't actually retreat. Silence fell while they prodded each other into speaking first.

Finally one of them cleared his throat after a particularly effective jab to the ribs. "Uh… um… Sire? Your presence is required. There's been a… well, there's been something… they are just everywhere, sire! The Labyrinth in overrun!"

"They are children, you dim-witted scab. Horrible, precocious children certainly, and strangely fixated on earning badges, but children nonetheless. Surely even you can occupy them for an hour. Throw them in an oubliette if you have to."

"But, sire, we have tried everything! Burning them. Drowning them. Setting chickens on them."

Sarah felt confusion and panic war. "Wait… You did what to my kids?"

"Not those nasty things!" whined the guards. "The caterpillars!"

Jareth stared at Sarah for a long moment as he processed the words and then vanished taking the guards with him. The sudden shift of weight sent Sarah falling backwards into the lake.

* * *

When the Goblin King reappeared in the Labyrinth, fully dressed and feeling extra irritable, he was not prepared for what actually awaited him. Goblins were naturally prone to hyperbole, believing as they did that tall tales were a form of religion, but they had not actually exaggerated the invertebrate problem. Centuries-old hedges were picked completely clean. Trees were completely encased in cocoons, and the walkways were literally wriggling with a writing masse of fuzzy blue caterpillars. The chickens, which been treating the influx like Christmas come early, had hit apparently their maximum at the all you can eat buffet and were sprawled in various positions of post-gorgal napping. Something about the magic in the underground had apparently sped up the caterpillars' natural propagation.

Jareth had already expended a great deal of magic going above ground, even with Simon's assistance of a wish. He could already feel another headache coming on just as Pöngö waded to his side.

"I trust you have something good to say, general, otherwise I'd suggest not speaking at all just now."

"Actually yes, sire. I think you will be most pleased."

"Oh?"

"We found the missing boy."

Jareth felt a weight lift from his shoulders. And it was far greater than the weight of the caterpillars Pöngö began helpfully plucking from his armour.

In fact he felt a supreme shift in power in his favour. No need to play nice anymore. Which was fitting as he wasn't feeling particularly merciful anymore looking at his ruined Labyrinth.

* * *

Sarah had just made it back to her site and was taking stock of the damage the goblins had done in her absence - all of them now passed out around the fire and sleeping off their sugar high – when Jareth appeared again suddenly, guards in tow.

He was no longer looking quite sun-kissed or declawed.

She re-wrapped her towel around herself tightly.

"Sarah." There was a bite to his voice she didn't at all like. "You really should have taken that truce when you had the chance."

This time when he snapped his fingers, the boy the guards escorted out was not Simon. She recognized Toby's solemn little face right away. She felt a rush of relief and then a sinking feeling of dread.

"You tried to hide him with your friends." Another set of guards led Ludo, Sir Didymus and Hoggle out, their heads hung low in shame. "It might have even worked had they a brain to spare between them."

"And yet they still defeated you once." She replied with a particularly defiant jut of her chin.

Jareth's lips thinned. "Let's not waste further time. Shall we instead discuss what you'll trade to get this one back?" He lay a gauntleted hand on the boy's shoulder. "I assure you the price went up considerably in the last hour."

Sarah swallowed, her grip on her towel turning white knuckled as she chose her word.

But it was Toby who spoke next – softly but with obvious conviction. "I don't want to go back."

Sarah looked at Jareth. Jareth looked at Sarah.

"What?!" they said together.

* * *

**AN:** I am wholly ashamed I let summer go by without an update on this one! Cone of shame. I haven't forgotten about this weird little impulse fic even as I focus on Tanglewood and How to Catch a Goblin King. I hope you enjoyed – this is definitely just a low stakes fun, summer fic. And I just *had* to put Jareth in a tiny bathing suit. Have you seen Bowie in one?!

Stay safe, folks!

p.s. Kybo is a word Scouts use for outhouse.


End file.
